


cast your sleeping hearts awake

by noirheart (Flumes)



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Airports, Fear of Flying, Fluff, M/M, Strangers on a Plane AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-07 16:27:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20820314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flumes/pseuds/noirheart
Summary: “Hey, you okay?”The man tilts his head imperceptibly, neck stiff, and gives a tight nod. “Mm. Fine.”Jisung squints at him. “No offence, but you don’t really look it, buddy.”This gets him moving more naturally. “Saying ‘no offence’ doesn’t actually excuse you of anything.”“Fine. You look like shit, then.”





	cast your sleeping hearts awake

Jisung is always happy when he gets the window seat. It means he doesn’t annoy anyone by craning his neck past them to see the city grow smaller and smaller through the oval pane of glass, mouth dropping open when he sees the water sparkle under the sun and the buildings he recognises from his adventures shrinking before his eyes. Years of regular flying have never dimmed his fascination with the sight; with the knowledge that he’s being launched into the air and hurtled across the world in a ridiculously short period of time in what is effectively a tin can. It amazes him. Sometimes he’ll even snap a few pictures or a few selfies so he can look back and remember his trips, flight included.

Glancing around him, Jisung sneaks a few before his seat mate arrives, the plane a bustle of motion around him as people file on and put away their luggage in the overhead lockers, sticking one he likes on Instagram before he flicks his phone onto flight mode. Maybe he’ll be lucky and the plane won’t be fully booked. He wouldn’t mind stretching out his legs and going for a nap after an eventful week visiting Felix in Sydney. The mini high school reunion between himself, Hyunjin, Seungmin and Felix had been one of the best weeks of his life but he wouldn’t exactly have called it a relaxing holiday. Too much surfing, late nights, and most importantly, drinking, have left him a little bleary eyed. Damn, if they can’t still drink him under the table.

He’s considering tipping his seat back and snoozing through as much of the flight as he can when a slam snaps his eyes open, a young man in a suit lifting his hand from the overhead locker as he drops into the seat next to Jisung with nary an acknowledgement of his presence. Jisung turns away with a sigh. Sometimes he passes the time by chatting to his neighbour but he can see this man isn’t the type, far too serious in a neatly pressed shirt and suit jacket, staring straight ahead. After a beat he picks up the airline magazine and flips through it mechanically, barely sparing a glance at each page before he’s flicking onwards.

Knowing he’s going to be judged for it by his seat mate and not really caring, Jisung pulls out his Switch. The tinny overhead voice drones about safety and he knows he’s not going to sleep now so he might as well see if he can master Rainbow Road, turning down the music and whiling away the introduction until he feels the rumble of the engine, peering out the window at the way the dying sunlight paints the runway in the blush of gold and pink. The plane begins to move, slowly at first before picking up speed, and then there’s the tug at his stomach as it surges into the air. They tear into the sky, the city unfolding before him like a map being rolled out across a table.

Leaning over, he picks out a few of the landmarks he visited with Felix, marvelling at the shimmer of amber across the sea. Soon everything is tiny, clouds brushing the wings of the plane, and the plane steadies itself. Jisung is just about to turn back to his game when he hears a groan beside him and he turns to see the businessman leaning back in his seat and staring straight ahead of him, hands gripping the arms of his seat. There’s a faint sheen of sweat on his brow and he’s biting his lip. A new flyer, maybe.

“Hey, you okay?”

The man tilts his head imperceptibly, neck stiff, and gives a tight nod. “Mm. Fine.”

Jisung squints at him. “No offence, but you don’t really look it, buddy.”

This gets him moving more naturally. “Saying ‘no offence’ doesn’t actually excuse you of anything.”

“Fine. You look like shit, then.”

The man utters a weak laugh, wiping at his forehead. “Yeah. Don’t really like flying.”

“I can tell.”

The man glares at him again.

Jisung puts down his Switch and raises his palms. “Listen, I’ve been flying since I was a kid. I have lots of experience. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Just because nothing’s happened_ yet _doesn’t mean it won’t.”

“Statistically flying is the safest form of travel. You’re more likely to die by car.”

The man furrows his brow. “That’s not really helping.”

Jisung scratches the back of his head. “Uh, right. Sorry. I just meant that if you do something to pass the time it’ll all be over before you know it.” He holds up his Switch. “Do you have a game or something?”

The man looks dubious. “I have my work laptop.”

“Work on a plane?” Jisung shakes his head. “You can play my Switch, if you want?”

This cracks a smile from the man, finally. The effect is akin to sun spilling across the horizon at dawn, pulling the breath from Jisung’s lungs in much the same way. He feels a funny fluttering in his stomach, much like the one from take off. “That’s nice of you but I’m okay, thanks.”

But Jisung can’t go back to his game after seeing the man smile like that and just leave him there to suffer. Rummaging in his bag, he pulls out a pack of cards that he bought in a souvenir shop for his parents. “Tell you what? How about we play a few games? See if my broke ass can’t earn a few won.”

This earns him a chuckle, rich and dark. The man’s eyes crease attractively. “Shouldn’t I know the name of my opponent before I rob him of his money?”

Jisung sits up, attentive. “Han Jisung, at your service.”

Holding out a hand to shake, he says, “Nice to meet you, Jisung. I’m Minho.”

Minho’s hand is warm and slightly damp but Jisung doesn’t mind, gripping it firmly. “It’s on,” he says.

Except it isn’t, really. Minho wipes the floor with him at every single game he can think of, his nerves apparently forgotten to be replaced with a poker face Jisung can’t crack no matter how many jokes or taunts he pulls out. He stares at his cards and scratches his head, trying to work out which card he should play. Every time he thinks he’s got it Minho is somehow several steps ahead.

Over the fan of his own cards Minho waggles his brows at him. “You’re really bad at hiding your thoughts.”

Jisung pouts. “I’m pretty sure you’re just a mind reader.”

He plays his Jack of Spades, thinking surely this must earn him a game. Only Minho runs a finger over his cards and then places down the Ace of Spades, slapping his hand over them and sliding them onto his table. “Wow, you’re really bad at this.”

“No. No way you had that.”

“You’ve got to consider whether to hold onto your good cards, Jisungie. That’s the gamble.”

A few round of Trumps later and Jisung is throwing down his cards with a sigh as Minho laughs. “You sure I can’t tempt you to some Mario Kart?” Surely he would have a chance of actually winning that game, especially if Minho hasn’t played before.

Minho opens his mouth but at that moment the plane begins to judder and he blanches, falling back into his seat with his hands slapping over the armrests. The overhead light comes on, telling them to buckle up their seatbelts. Minho groans, eyelids shuttering, and Jisung quickly gathers up his cards so he can fold up his table.

“This is just a little turbulence as we pass through the clouds,” announces the pilot. “Please remain in your seats until the light above turns off. Thank you.”

“I’m going to die,” moans Minho. “I’m too young too die.”

“Hey, hey,” says Jisung. “It’s just turbulence. Happens all the time, I swear. It’s nothing to worry about.”

Minho keeps his eyes closed, knuckles turning white from where he’s plastered to the armrests. Jisung bites his lip, seeing the sweat shining on his forehead, and figures that he might as well take Minho’s words to heart. Sometimes you just have to gamble. So he slides his hand into Minho’s, ignoring that it’s damp and sweaty, and laces their fingers together.

That gets Minho to look at him, cracking an eye open.

“I’m here,” he says with a smile. “It’s going to be alright.”

The shaking grows more violent, the plane grumbling and creaking, and Minho squeezes his hand so tight he loses all feeling in it. Still he keeps running his thumb over the back of his hand soothingly, murmuring placations in his ear to try and keep him calm. With his other hand he rummages for the sick bag, just in case. Minho looks queasy, skin pale and damp, and Jisung doesn’t want to risk the embarrassment for the both of them.

Eventually the shaking subsides and the pilot announces that they’re safely through the turbulence, midnight blue sky replacing the smog of the clouds. “Hey,” he says quietly, “we’re okay now. We made it. See?”

Slowly Minho opens his eyes, swivelling to the small oval window beyond Jisung. It takes him a moment to unlatch his fingers from his and Jisung stretches his hand out with a wince. When he turns back the soft violets and lavenders are highlighting the soft angles of Minho’s face, eyes shining with the reflection of relief, and Jisung kind of wants to grab his face with both hands and kiss him.

Those eyes flick to him, a smile curling at his lips, and Jisung feels a little bit breathless. “Hey, thanks for that.”

“Uh, yeah. No problem. Say, you can probably take your seatbelt off now.”

Minho glances down. “Mm. I think I’ll keep it on just in case this tin deathtrap tries to launch me from my seat again.” He still looks worn out.

“Hey, can’t be any worse than work, right?”

“You would think.” Minho releases a shaky exhale. “What do you do, Jisung?”

“Me? Eh, I’m kind of between things at the moment.” He braces himself for judgement that doesn’t come and turns to see Minho gazing at him thoughtfully. “It’s just, you know, my friends are all smart. Seungmin is training to be a lawyer and Hyunjin is doing interior design at university and Chan is apprenticing with a music producer and I’m, just, still figuring it out, you know?”

Minho blinks slowly. “That’s okay, you know. Everyone has their own pace. You just need to find what’s right for you.”

Jisung has no idea how long he’s been waiting to hear those words, breathing out heavily. The pressure on his chest eases a little. “I want to make music. That’s always been my passion. I just could never focus on school and I ended up dropping out and I know I’m a disappointment to my parents but–”

“Hey, hey, Jisung.” Minho grabs his hand, mirroring Jisung’s gesture as he squeezes his hand. “You’re not a disappointment. School isn’t for everyone. You just need to get out there and find where you’re meant to be. Follow your heart.” The finger of his other hand taps him on the left side of his chest.

“But – but you’re a smart businessman. You must have stuck in at school. Your parents must be proud.”

Minho snorts, grimacing as he glances away. “Mm. Try telling my father that. I followed him into business to make him happy, but honestly? I was miserable for the first few years. If there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that if you try to focus on making other people happy, it’s you that ends up taking the fall. Focus on your own happiness first, Jisung. Promise me you’ll do that.”

“But you’re happy now, right?” Jisung isn’t sure why but he’s desperate to know. “You’re doing your own thing now?”

Minho nods. “It took a while but eventually I left my dad’s company. I went to a smaller startup where I found people who thought the same way as I did and it all worked out in the end. There’s no one route to success. That much I know now.” He turns to him with a small, secretive smile that sends a shiver down his spine. “If you’re really determined, and willing to work hard, you will get there.”

Tears prick in his eyes and to cover himself Jisung breaks Minho’s gaze to check his watch. “I think we’ll be descending soon. Looks like you made it.”

Just on time, the pilot announces that they’ll begin their descent into Incheon, the starry land cutting into the expanse of the dark sea below. With that Minho’s smile widens, eyes curving into crescents. “I guess I did.” Jisung would happily empty his camera of pictures of Australia and fill it with Minho smiling instead.

But with the first pop of pressure in his ears as the plane begins to tip downwards, Jisung feels a similar sinking feeling in his stomach. The flight is nearly over and when he lands he and Minho will go their separate ways. Seoul is an enormous city; it’s not like he’s likely to just bump into him again, and that’s if he’s even going to be staying there.

He retreats into his own seat and watches as the land grows bigger out the window, admiring the clusters of twinkling lights that make up the city. At least it’s made for a quick flight, he reasons, willing himself to focus on the positives when he’s suddenly morose at the thought of never seeing Minho again. They’re basically strangers. It’s stupid and naive to think it means anything, even if they have bonded over cards and Minho’s fear of flying. Heck, Minho will probably have forgotten all about him by the time he’s stepped out of the airport.

A hand taps him on the shoulder and he holds out a hand on instinct as Minho drops a hard-boiled sweet into his palm. “Why are you so quiet all of a sudden? You were talking my ear off a minute ago.”

“Uh…”

Instead of speaking he pops the sweet into his mouth and sucks to help with the pressure in his ears as the plane tilts down towards the airport. It’s cola flavoured. Sweet and a little sour, just like Minho himself.

Just before the wheels hit the ground Minho grabs his hand again, releasing a soft exhale as they hit down with a bounce and then roll into a stop. Once he realises they’ve stopped he jerks his hand back with a squeaked, “Sorry!” and Jisung laughs.

“No big deal.” He tries to sound casual despite the way his heart is beginning to ache and he scolds himself out it. It isn’t like him to mope about things like this.

Together they file off the plane, Jisung shivering as the cold night air hits him in a sharp gust of wind and Minho laughs, dropping his suit jacket over Jisung’s shoulders. Jisung looks at him but Minho simply points out the luggage pick up so he pulls it over his shoulders, catching a whiff of cologne that makes his cheeks flush.

Waiting for their bags is as tedious as always but eventually the conveyor starts moving and Minho laughs at him every time he pulls off a bag he thinks is his only to find the tag is wrong. Then he nearly misses his bag, knocking into a tired looking man as he swings it off the conveyor with an, “_Oof!_”

Minho stares at him. “What do you have such a giant bag for?”

Jisung huffs as he lugs it over to him. “It’s not that big.”

“It’s nearly the size of you!” Minho snorts. “You’re one of those people who takes everything, aren’t you? Three outfits a day and every gadget under the sun?”

“_Well,_” he says. “I had to bring back gifts.”

“Mm. I’ll bet.”

Stifling a yawn, he mumbles out a question about how Minho is getting home. Changbin promised he would come pick him up but he could probably corral him into taking Minho too if it’s not to far. Not that he’s trying to find out where he lives or anything because that would make him a stalker.

“Oh, look, there’s me.” Minho points to a man in a suit with a sign that reads,_ Lee Minho-ssi._

“You must be important, hyung,” says Jisung.

“Eh. Not really.” Minho wheels to look at him. “I’ll catch you later, Jisungie. Thank you for your help.” And then he’s off, waving to the man in greeting.

Jisung waves him off, shoulders slumping once he’s past the automatic doors and swallowed into the night, realising that it’s over. It’s disappointing but not unexpected. Oh well, at least he has the story to tell to Changbin when he sees him. He rifles in his pocket for his phone to call him and find out where he’s picking him up when he realises he still has Minho’s jacket. Taking off after him and shouting out his name, all he does is attract the attention of taxi drivers and smokers clustered around the exit as he stares out at the night sky, Minho long gone.

Slipping the garment off, he looks through it only to find a business card tucked into the pocket. “Lee Minho, business consultant, huh?” There’s a number and even an address to a building in the business district of Seoul. Jisung closes a fist around it with a grin.

Later, when Changbin picks him up, he huffs and puffs as he helps Jisung haul his massive case into the boot of his car. Settling into the driver side, he turns up the radio to a metal track as he waits for Jisung to sort out his things. “Remind me never to agree to this again. Do you know what time it is?”

Jisung merely shrugs. “You wouldn’t leave me to fend for myself, would you, hyung?”

“Couldn’t you have just come back on the same flight as Seungmin? That way I could have picked you up together and saved myself two trips.”

“But I couldn’t go all that way and not visit Chan when he’s going to be in America soon.”

Changbin sighs, signalling as he turns out of the airport and pulls onto the road. Because he’s tsundere, he says, “So, how was your flight?”

“Mm. Good.” Minho’s business card is tucked into his phone case, the number already plugged into his phone. It’s only the honourable thing to do, after all, by offering to return his jacket. He plans to text him first thing tomorrow, once he’s had some sleep. His eyelids droop, the drive lulling him into drowsiness.

“Good?”

“Really good. I just met the love of my life.”

“What?” Changbin sputters, nearly ramming into the car in front at a red light. He turns all the way to look at him “What do you mean you just–”

“Green light, hyung. You better go.”

Green flashes over the bundle on the back seat, lying next to his flight bag. Minho’s jacket is folded up neatly, the ticket to a much anticipated reunion.

**Author's Note:**

> I word-barfed this all in one night so yeah
> 
> Gotta get those Minsung feels out tho


End file.
